


Low Spoons Day

by WaferBiscuits



Category: Animaniacs
Genre: Animal Crossing Shop Talk, Depression, Family Feels, Gamer Wakko, Gen, He/They Pronouns for Wakko, Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Wakko, Supportive & Protective Sibs, mental health, mentions of dysphoria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaferBiscuits/pseuds/WaferBiscuits
Summary: The Warners prepare for a trip to a local Burbank museum, but Wakko wants to stick behind at the tower. They're not really sure why, other than a strange sad feeling that they're not quite able to really understand or express.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 209





	1. Chapter 1

The morning of April first in Burbank dawned with a chill in the air and a miasma of smoggy haze, as per usual for any day at the Warner Bros. lot. 

But! This was a Saturday, and that meant a day of rest with zero script readings, blocking, or reboot prep. Rest and Respite, as well as whatever kind of non-working-related activity the Warners could cook up from the high perch of their tower.

“Aw, come on Wakko! You sure you don’t wanna come?” Dot called from her makeshift vanity, a scuffed-up mirror propped up on an Ikea table (well, Dot called it a ‘Lack’ – but let’s be honest, it was just a table) with a stolen piano stool. “I think you’d like it! They might have some Don Knotts memorabilia.” She worked a small comb through her fur tufts and eyed a crumpled magazine cut-out of Oscar Isaac she had tucked into the edge of the mirror’s frame. 

It had been Dot’s idea to kick off the weekend by visiting one of Burbank’s humbler sites, the Gordon B. Howard museum. Something historical to class up her and her bedraggled siblings.

From the living room couch, Wakko didn’t even bother to look up from their Switch, their tongue lolled out the side of their mouth in concentration. “Nah, that’s alright,” they said.

“Y’know, I read on TripAdvisor that they got one of Johnny’s coats there,” Yakko piped in over a mouthful of Acme Loops and almond milk, spoon in one paw and phone in the other. He grinned. “I bet it wouldn’t be too much trouble to finagle a chance to try it on!”

A tinny ‘woo hoo!’ echoed from Wakko’s Switch, a sign of a captured bug or fish in Animal Crossing. They kept their eyes glued to the screen. “Which Johnny?” they asked.

“Carson!”

“Meh.”

“What, were you hoping for Cash?” Dot quipped. She tied her hair bow, leapt from her stool, and bounded over to Wakko’s side to peer over his shoulder at his game. “How’s Mayberry Island doing?” she asked.

Wakko tilted the handheld a bit to let her see the screen better. “Pretty good. Mr. Nook stopped being a jerk and gave me God powers, see?” They maneuvered their flower-dress clad villager over to a cliff and began hacking away at it with a shovel, forming the beginnings of a misshapen canyon. “It’s faboo, cause’ you can make waterfalls and stuff with it too.”

“Oh, like Minecraft!” Dot smiled. “That’s really cool! Can I use your profile to make my yard look like Pandora?”

“Uh-huh, and I left some new black tulips in front of your house if you want them.” 

“Yes, I most certainly do!” Dot’s tail thumped against the couch cushion and she threw her arms around Wakko in a quick hug. “Thanks, Island Rep Extraordinaire!”

Yakko dumped his cereal bowl in the sink and ran it under the faucet. “Looks like my baby sib is turning into a regular architect. Ya gonna do anything with your newfound terraforming powers, Wak?” he asked. Gaming wasn’t really the eldest Warner’s specialty, but he always made his best effort to engage in his siblings’ hobbies. 

Wakko looked up at his brother, nodding with a small smile. “I wanna get Grizzly to move out, so I’m gonna make a big moat around his house, then I’m gonna make cliffs around that, and then I’m gonna dig a hole outside his door.” 

“Which one’s Grizzly again?” Yakko dried his gloved paws on a dishtowel and pulled his phone from his pants pocket. He typed in the name as he went over and plopped down next to Wakko, leaving his baby sib sandwiched between him and Dot. 

Before Yakko’s safari browser could boot up, Wakko nudged his arm. “He’s this one, see?” They pointed out a brown bear that had strolled into frame. 

“Oh, that one?” Yakko leaned over and propped his arm on the top of Wakko’s capped head, leaning on them like he would at a counter (but not putting his weight on them). Wakko chortled softly at the gesture and wiggled in their seat.

Dot looked puzzled. “But Grizzly’s so nice, at least when I talk to him.”

“I don’t like him cause’ he looks too much like that mean man from the garage sale,” Wakko mumbled, huffing. They punctuated this by having their villager pull out a butterfly net and bop it on the bear’s head. 

“Oh, yeah, good old Noodles! Man, that guy really was a few pages short of a novel, huh?” Yakko chuckled. “Wonder how 2020 is treating him…” 

“Hopefully just as badly, and just as garage-less,” said Dot. She hopped from the couch and made for the tower’s bathroom, calling “I just gotta brush my teeth and I’ll be ready, Yakko!”

“Yeppers, peppers!” Yakko called, then turned to Wakko. 

Gently, he took the Switch from his sibling’s paws and set it on the coffee table. Wakko didn’t grab for it or keep a tight hold, relinquishing it as his big brother flopped an arm around his shoulders. 

Yakko hugged them to his side. “You sure you don’t want to come with, Wak?” he asked in that soft I’m-worried-about-you-but-I’m-only-going-to-say-it-in-my-tone way. “I know we don’t usually do low-key stuff like this, but it might be a good change of pace, y’know?” 

Wakko sighed. Without having something like a game to focus on, they suddenly felt like something was dropping in their stomach. Not like hunger, but like a sad, melancholy sort of lump had settled in his gut. 

He cupped his paws in his lap and looked up at Yakko. “I think I might go lie down when you leave, maybe. I dunno.”

“Yeah? You okay?” Yakko prodded, reaching up to gently tug on one of Wakko’s floppy ears. “If you’re feeling sick, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Nuh-uh, not that,” Wakko murmured, “I dunno, I guess I just feel kinda sad? But that doesn’t make sense, cause’ today’s been pretty okay so far.” 

Yakko hummed, thinking for a moment before asking, very quietly, “is it a gender kind of sad, you think?” He took his sibling’s paw and squeezed it reassuringly.

Wakko thought hard for a moment. Dysphoria was something that they still had a very difficult time verbalizing, even if it got a little easier each time their siblings helped them navigate expressing it. 

After a few moments of thinking, he shook his head. “No, I think this is different. I think it is, at least? I’m not really sure.” They growled a little in frustration, tail swishing back and forth.

Dot leapt back into the living room then, flashing a toothy grin. “I flossed all of the food tidbits out of my teeth!” she crowed triumphantly, only to immediately wilt when she realized how somber her siblings looked. 

“Sorry, Dot…” Wakko cringed. 

“How come?” Dot hopped back on the couch and reached up to straighten their crooked cap. 

“Cause’ I don’t wanna ruin the trip or make you late.”

“Have we ever been on time to anything, Wakko? Come on, now!” Dot giggled and took Wakko’s arm in a tight hug. “Honestly, I think Scratchy would have an aneurysm if we weren’t running at least five minutes behind.”

That got a weak chuckle out of Wakko before they sighed and leaned forward to take back their Switch.

“Ah-ah-ah.” Yakko lightly took his sibling’s paws and pushed them back to their lap. “No harassing the virtual townsfolk just yet, okay?” 

“They’re islanders, technically,” Wakko mumbled.

Dot flicked her tail in thought. “Did you eat any breakfast yet?” she asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Wakko nodded. “I had a sandwich.”

“Ehhh, are we talking a normal sandwich?” asked Yakko, “or a Dagwood sandwich?” 

“Somewhere in the middle. I wasn’t very hungry.”

From over the top of Wakko’s head, Yakko and Dot exchanged a concerned look.

“Hey, Wak?” Yakko ventured, taking his sibling’s paw once more, “how about me and Dot stay home for today? Put a raincheck on the trip?”

“Yeah!” Dot agreed, resting her head on Wakko’s shoulder. “We can play some Chutes and Ladders, or maybe I can try some bow tying tricks that I learned on Pintrest on your tail, if you want.”

Both Warners felt Wakko tense up a little at the suggestion, and they seemed a loss for a reply, wringing their paws and stammering a few panicked ‘uhs’ and ‘uhms’.

Shushing him with a tail tip to the lips, Yakko added “or, if you want to lie down and be with yourself for a little bit, that’s just as fine too.” 

Wakko took a few minutes to mull over an answer, which wasn’t out of character for them, and their brother and sister were always more than willing to wait for them to parse out their words. 

“I think…” they began, then stopped and restarted. “I like the second one. I want to be alone, I think.” They were, verbally speaking, stumbling a little, and they looked at Yakko and Dot with a pleading, helpless frown. “Not that I don’t want either of you around, or that I don’t love you guys, or anything like that.” 

His Scouse voice took on a warbling edge, and Yakko could immediately tell that Wakko getting very anxious very quickly, tears welling up in their eyes. 

“Hey, Hey small sib, come on over here,” Yakko spoke in a low, calm cadence and gently hooked his paws under Wakko’s arms to pull them into his lap. He gestured for Dot to scooch over the gap and pulled them both in a firm group hug. 

“M’sorry,” Wakko said, his words muffled in the fuzz of Yakko’s chest fur. “I don’t really know why I feel not so good.”

Dot put her own arm around Wakko and lightly bonked her forehead against theirs. “That’s really okay, Wak, sometimes there doesn’t have to be a reason to feel depressed. I read something like that in a Reader’s Digest at Scratchy’s waiting room, but I think it makes sense,” she said, nodding sagely.

“Yeah, like, that’s kind of how sometimes I don’t know what triggers up my panic attacks,” Yakko added, resting a cheek against Wakko’s head. “Sometimes they just happen, and that’s how it goes.”

Balancing one Warner per hip, Yakko hefted his siblings and stood. “Can you grab your game okay, Wakko?” he asked, leaning forward a little. 

Wakko reached out and took the Switch, now well in sleep mode, and hugged it to himself. 

“Alrighty-O, let’s get you to your hammock, yeah?” With the practiced ease and strength that only an eldest brother could have, Yakko ambled towards the bedroom portion of the water tower with two Warners cradled in each arm. 

At the lip of the hammock, Yakko set Dot to the ground and carefully placed Wakko in bed, pulling his patchwork quilt over him. “If you think lying down will help, at least let us get you settled before we go, okay?”

As Wakko snuggled down into their pillow, Dot tucked their quilt in the sides of the hammock, including their dangling tail. “Yeah, and just in case, we’ll have our phones on us too!”

“Good plan, sister sibling!” Yakko leaned over and cupped a paw to Wakko’s forehead, brushing away stray strands of fur. “So sib, if you feel like you need company, or if you get scared or if you just wanna shoot the breeze, just call either of us and we’ll answer right away, yeah?” 

Wakko nodded, and Yakko kissed their forehead. “Love you, Wakko,” he said.

“Love you too, bro,” Wakko whispered from the depths of their pillow, their Switch still nestled against their chest under the sheet. 

Giving their shoulder a couple pats, Yakko made for the tower door. 

Dot lingered behind, glancing back at Yakko before turning back to Wakko with a concerned frown. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? Or that you don’t want company?” she asked.

Wakko mustered up a tired smile. “I’m sure, sis. Promise. But…” they trailed off. 

“Hm?” Dot prodded.

“If they do have any Don Knotts stuff, could you take some pictures?” 

Dot grinned. “You got it!” 

“Hey Godot!” Yakko yelled from the door, “I’m waiting for ya!”

“Coming, geez!” Dot called, before turning to Wakko and giving them a small kiss on the cheek. “Love you, Sib,” she whispered.”

“Love you too.”


	2. Epilogue

Turns out, Wakko really wasn’t missing much. The Gordon Howard museum was less ‘museum’ and more ‘suburban house across the road from a credit union’. Quaint, but from Yakko’s perspective, it was nothing to write the water tower about.

Dot, on the other paw, absolutely loved it. 

“Ooh, Yakko, look!” She pointed at the house’s baby blue siding. “Isn’t it cute? It’s so! So! Victorian! With a dash of Americana!” 

It was a small, humble building nestled smack-dab in the middle of hodge-podge Burbank. The only thing shielding it from utter aesthetic disaster was the classic American tradition of passive aggressively enforcing property lines, a white picket fence. 

Yakko drummed his paws along it. “Yeah, right? I’m kind of expecting a cocker spaniel to run around the corner.” He tried to sound much more enthused than he actually felt, stuffing his paw into his pocket to pull out his phone and check if there were any missed calls or texts from Wakko.

_Appointment reminder for Scratchy… Retweet notifications… wait, didn’t I mute that thread earlier? Refill notification from CVS for Wellbutrin…_

His train of thought took an abrupt stop when he felt Dot tug on his slacks. “Yak?”

He looked down and immediately felt guilty, even if Dot didn’t look anything but puzzled. “Sorry, sis. What’s up?” 

“Do you wanna get a picture taken to send to Wakko?” she asked, gesturing towards the museum’s modest wooden carved sign. 

“That sounds like a great idea.” Yakko smiled and placed a paw on Dot’s hair, careful not to tussle it too much. 

He looked back to glance up and down the sidewalk for a potential person or toon walking by, or at least someone trustworthy looking enough to lend a phone to.  
Apart from a few swift-walking brokers, there wasn’t much of variety. Nothing like being in a business district on a weekend. 

“Ehhh, well! How about this?” Yakko knelt down to Dot’s eye level. “How’s about I get your pic in front of the sign with your phone, and you can get a shot of me in Carson’s digs once we get inside?” He held out a paw.

Dot beamed. “Deal!” She slapped her android in Yakko’s paw and skipped to the sign, which considering her own small stature was about twice as tall as she was.

Plugging in the phone’s ‘A113’ lock code, Yakko opened the camera. “Tall or long photo?” he asked. 

“Hmmm…” Dot turned and surveyed her setting, tail swishing in thought. “Long, I think. D’ya think I should go for energetic and excited?” She jumped in the air and shot a toothy grin. “Or!” 

Soon as her paws touched the grass, she crossed her arms and smirked. “Should I go for a reflective, yet pleased stature that says, ‘I’m about to have a very sensible, yet amusing outing’?” 

“Nah, neither,” said Yakko, shaking his head. “How about… awkward middle child in a 90’s Sears family photo?” 

“Somewhere in the middle, then!” Cupping her paws in front of her waist, Dot grinned. 

“Perfect-o! Say Hulu!” 

“Huuuluuu!”

Yakko took a few seconds to frame the shot, and clicked. “Got it!” He locked the phone and handed it back to Dot. “Howzit?” 

Dot, taking the phone, pulled out a dainty pair of spectacles and examined the screen. “Adequate framing. It shall do.”

“Gee, you’re welcome.”

“You think I should text something to go with it to them?” Dot bit her lip. “I don’t wanna say something like ‘wish you were here’ because that would come across as like I’m guilt-tripping them, and I don’t want say anything like ‘oh boy, this sure is fun!’ because then he might get fomo and then feel sadder…” She signed, ears drooping to the sides of her head and paw anxiously fiddling with the hem of her skirt. 

“Aw, sib…” Yakko plopped down and crossed his legs. “How about this? Let’s text it as is, no need to overthink, and then let’s find ourselves some greasy spoon nearby that Wakko would go nuts for and order take out for them to pick up after we’re done here.” 

Dot brightened a little, tail wagging. “Let’s do that, then, yeah!”

As they both moved to stand, Yakko felt his pocket buzz. 

Before the first ring was done, and without even looking at the caller ID, Yakko took his phone and swiped to answer. He put it on speaker. “Hey there, Wakkorotti!” he greeted in a warm singsong. “You’re on speaker!”

“Hi, Yakko…” a tiny voice sounded.

“Hi Wakko, I’m here too!” Dot called, shoving herself against Yakko’s side to get her mouth as close to the mic as possible. “How’s hammock living?” 

A small, nondescript hum. “It’s okay, pretty warm. Pretty quiet. I can’t find the Switch dock… d’you know where it went?” 

Dot sighed and rolled her eyes. “It’s next to the TV. Like it always is.” 

“Oh, right! Sorry.”

“Hey, Wakko, how you feeling?” Yakko couldn’t help but broach. He kept his tone calm, even if he felt his anxiety boiling over on the inside. “Any better?”

“Uh-huh! Oh, Dot! Would you be OK with Apollo moving out? He just asked if he could.”

Yakko frowned. Well, so much for subtlety. That, or Wakko just didn’t feel like talking about their feelings right now, which was fine!

But boy, did it make Yakko worry. More than he usually did, and that was already a lot. 

Meanwhile, Dot shrugged. “Apollo? You can feed him to Timmy and Tommy for all I care. Long as you don’t kick Bianca to the curb, we’re golden.”

“Faboo. Then I’ll time travel a few days out and if you want, we can island hop when you get back.”

“Sure thing!” 

This was really starting to derail. Yakko poked his sister’s shoulder and opened up his maps app to do a quick overview of eateries within walking distance. 

As they both surveyed the list, Wakko’s voice chimed in. “How’s the museum place?”

“We haven’t gone in yet,” said Yakko, while simultaneously pointing out a Subway couple blocks down from where they were. He waited for Dot’s nod, then asked, “would you want us to swing by and get you a couple dozen black forest ham foot longs from Subway for ya?”

A beat of silence from Wakko, then a small mumble. “Can you get a couple sugar cookies, too? And maybe a drink cup? The plastic’s got a nice chew to it.”

Yakko felt a rush of relief and exhaled a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “You got it, Sib. We’ll get ya those chews once we’re outta here, faster than you can say Albuquerque.” 

Wakko snickered. “Albuquerque!”

“Aw, drat!” Yakko lamented, snapping his fingers for good measure. Even so, he felt a warm sense of relief wash over him. At least Wakko was up to banter. 

Dot was grinning. “I was just about to text you some pictures of the museum, and I’ll get more when we’re inside, too!”

Yakko cupped a paw to the side of his face, away from Dot, and whispered mockingly loudly, “it’s real small, so it probably isn’t gonna take too long to get through, either.” 

“Hmph!” Dot crossed her arms and flicked the tip of her tail. 

Giving his sister a good-natured shove, Yakko turned back to the phone. “Alright, Wak, we’ll let you go, but give a shout if you need, ok?”

“Okay.”

“We love you, Wakko!” Dot called.

“Love you both, too.”

“Love ya, Wakko,” Yakko added. “We’ll see ya in a bit.” He hung up and dipped his phone back into his pocket.

“They sounded better, don’t you think?” asked Dot, looking hopeful.

Yakko nodded. “Yeah, and at least they didn’t say no to food, then I’d be calling up Scratchy,” he said. 

Dot tugged on Yakko’s arm. “You wanna go in now?” 

“Sure, and remember! Carson jacket photo?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

And so, the two Warners skipped their way into the modest museum. They made quick work of bamboozling the one person running the front, and (to Yakko’s delight) it was a walk in the park to get that Johnny Carson jacket tried on. The only problem was that Dot was adamant that it wasn’t his color (“Brown just does NOT go with black fur, Yakko,” she had said). Still, she had taken the picture as promised. 

All in all, a pretty good Saturday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt like adding more to close out. Thank you so much for the kind comments !!! ;; I don't exaggerate when I say that they make my entire day to see.
> 
> It is also worth noting that the Gordon Howard museum is very much a real place tended to by the Burbank Historical Society. While I've never been myself, it looks like a very cute little establishment (and it does indeed have a Johnny coat!). It's closed for COVID right now, but I'd encourage anyone in the area to support them.


	3. Epilogue 2

Otto didn’t take lunches. He wasn’t the kind of medical professional who enjoyed carving out an hour of bliss per workday. He preferred to keep at a steady pace when it came to his labor.

“Like a draft horse at the plow, ja?” he’d say to his nurse, one of many clever deflections whenever she’d admonish him for ‘working too hard’.

Maybe that made him a glutton for punishment instead of food (ha).

Regardless, Saturday found Otto at his desk. He enjoyed thinking of his weekends as opportunities to rifle through untouched paperwork and get his billing sorted out. He found it peaceful, therapeutic even. 

Ms. Nurse wasn’t on staff for the weekend, but her desk phone was still on. Otto could hear an occasional series of rings from beyond his door. Each time, he’d take a mental note to check the voicemail at a stopping point in his work. 

He could have had the calls forwarded to him, but he was of the mind that it was uncouth to have his practice’s own provider answer a secretarial phone line. It gave off the wrong impression. 

“Or maybe I’m just old-fashioned, eh?” he chuckled softly to himself. 

Taking the clunky phone from its cradle and hugging it to his shoulder, Otto opened the inbox. 

“You have six new messages.”

Otto sighed and readied his notepad. Probably just medication refills.

The first five messages were two second hang-ups. Otto deleted them, feeling more than a little annoyed when he noted that the phone number for all of them was the same. Was whoever was calling really expecting to get an answer on a Saturday? 

At the sixth and final message, Otto hovered his finger over the delete button. He nearly pressed it before a soft and distinct Scouse voice played in his ear.

“Hi uh. This is Wakko Warner, uh… my birth date? Well, my birthday this year was pretty good. No clowns. Ice cream cake. But uhm… I was wonderin’ if Dr. Scratchy was home. That’s all. Thank you. I’m hanging up now.” The audio cut off. 

“There are no more messages.”

Otto gently placed the phone back on its receiver, feeling worry gnaw at the edges of his peripheral peace. 

9 times out of 10, Otto had to practically pay the Warner siblings to go to their sessions, despite how much they clearly needed help. Not in a ‘dezanification’ way, but in a ‘Mein Freud, do these kids have trauma’ way. Too bad getting them to sit still in the office was as bad as pulling teeth. 

It had gotten better over the decades, certainly. Chronic no-shows turned into chronically late. Dodging sensitive questions with visual gags turned into silence and halted answers. 

Though despite the progress, it was always Otto who had to arrange their weekly sessions. He was the one who had to call the Warners days in advance and every day thereafter to drill into their heads that they needed to at his office by 3PM on Thursday, “or so help me.”

Never once had one of them called his office phone, which was why Otto practically scrambled to fumble with the keypad. 

He knew the water tower’s landline by heart and didn’t think to look up Wakko’s personal cell until the line began ringing. Oh well. He’d try that number if he couldn’t get through on this one.

When no one picked up and the automated voicemail prompt clicked on, Otto debated on whether or not to leave a message. He didn’t know if Yakko or Dot were home or not, let alone if Wakko would want them to know they had tried to call, HIPAA or no. 

Before the prompt ended, Otto chose to hang up and took a few moments to leaf through his directory and pull up Wakko’s chart on his computer.

Like a well-oiled psychiatric machine, Otto dialed with one hand and readied his notepad in the other. The initial shock had worn off, and now his mental gears were turning. The line only rang once before Wakko answered. “Hullo?” 

“Oh, Hallo, Wakko!” Otto scribbled the toon’s name on the top of his paper. “Wie geht es ihnen? I got your message.” 

“Oh! Uh…” Wakko trailed off. He sounded very quiet, to the point were Otto had to turn up his own phone’s volume. “I’m OK, I guess I’m just surprised to hear you call back so soon when it’s Saturday.”

Otto manufactured a chuckle. “Oh ho well, all work and no play for me I guess, ja? But anywho, what can I do for you?” He hoped that his tone came off as more natural than he felt it did. 

“I dunno, really. It just felt right to call. I dunno.” A small quaver came through their voice, even through the static of the connection. 

“Call me, you mean?” Otto began writing. “Are your brother and sister home, Wakko?” 

“Nuh-uh. They went out to a museum. I was gonna go too, but uh…” They trailed off. 

Otto didn’t prompt him to continue. Wakko had always been more inclined to chew over their words before speaking, much unlike their siblings. 

Sure enough, they found their voice. “I guess I felt kind of, off? I dunno. To be honest, I got even sadder when they left. Which is weird, cause’ I told them the opposite, and that I wanted to be alone cause’ I thought that would make me feel better, but it didn’t. It made me feel worse, a-and Yakko told me to call i-if I felt bad but I d-didn’t and…” Wakko went quiet, sniffing.

“You didn’t call,” said Otto, keeping his voice soft, “how come?”

“I didn’t wanna r-ruin it.” Wakko hiccupped. “A-And now I feel like I lied by saying that I’d feel better, and that I’m a b-bad sibling, and that-“

“Whoa, whoa, hold those ponies, ja?” Otto cut Wakko off, pausing his note-taking. “Wakko, you’re spiraling right now, and I want you recognize that and pull back a little, okay?”

No answer but soft cries and muffled sobs.

“Wakko, go back a bit. You said you didn’t want to call because you were afraid of ‘ruining’ the trip?” asked Otto. “Can we talk about that a little?”

“I don’t want to,” said Wakko, his tone flat despite his crying.

“Okay, that’s fine.”

“It’s just,” Wakko went on, their speech tangled and fast. “Yakko and Dot help me so much, and I love them a whole bunch, and they always know what to say, and they even helped me get why I don’t feel like a boy or a girl, cause’ I was too dumb to figure out myself, and now I’m too dumb to know why I feel sad.” 

Otto listened to Wakko’s shallow breathing for a few moments, not wanting to interrupt their train of thought. He scribbled a few notes down.

Sure enough, Wakko continued. “I dunno why I feel bad, Scratchy. I just feel really tired.”

“It’s normal to not know why you feel depressed on any given day, Wakko. That’s how it works. You can have low points for seemingly no reason at all, or maybe as a result of a bunch of little triggers that you can’t pinpoint. Take Yakko, for instance, his anxiety attacks often manifest when he least expects them.”

“But Yakko’s the smart one,” Wakko said, his tone less argumentative and more exhausted. 

“You all have your strengths. Yakko yaks, and you-“

“Pack away the snacks,” Wakko cut Otto off, intoning the lyric like a dirge. “Which doesn’t take much thought.”

Otto grinned. “Ah, but while Dot and Yakko are busy doing the funny word games, you’re often the one in charge of the silent gags, right?”

“I guess…”

“Wakko, silent comedy is an art unto itself. Some would argue that it’s even harder than doing a classic ‘who’s on first?’ bit, ja?” Resting the phone in the nook of his shoulder, Otto flipped his note-ridden page to a fresh one. 

Wakko didn’t answer.

“Wakko, I would highly encourage you to call your siblings,” ventured Otto, “I know that suggestion might make you anxious, but I know that Yakko and Dot would want you to ask for help if you need it. I’m not saying that to make you feel better, just to affirm the truth of it.”

From the depths of the telephone lines and beyond, Wakko released a static-laden sigh. “You’re right, Mr. Scratchy.”

“Doctor, not Mister, Wakko.” Otto glanced at his schedule for next week. “And for the record, and only if you’re willing, I’d like to continue this conversation at out next meeting, okay?”

“Maybe.”

It was better than a flat ‘no’, and for Otto that alone was worth rejoicing. “That sounds wunderbar. Good-bye, Wakko.”

“Bye-bye, Scratchy.”

The line clicked off before Otto had placed it back on the receiver. 

He’d have to find somewhere to squeeze in an extra individual session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to add just one bit more. Thank you again for the kudos and the wonderful comments. I'm not overstating when I say that they really make my day!

**Author's Note:**

> The reboot awoke an old interest of mine. Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always cherished and appreciated


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